Comments Posted By Quicksilver Screen
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It was years in the making and when it finally arrived it smacked him in the face. This glob of pudding. A result he hadn’t been expecting at all really. Even more the surprise was that it was peanut butter flavored. “Suspicious,” thought, “highly supcious.”
An unseen assailant behind the brush, but stationed in front of a mirror giggled, “I want eagles in my day dreams and diamonds in my eyes…”
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 02.22.2016 @ 11:05 am
“Clever girl,” he said, and then the entrails were ripped from his body.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 01.31.2016 @ 2:49 pm
Oh, it’s been awhile since I had a good sob. I let tears well, but then I think of salt conservation and the feeling fades away. 90 seconds. That’s the supposed response time of any given emotionally driven biological reaction. Or think of it as you will, perhaps you are considering the triggers of your own brand of emotional circuitry. After 90 seconds you decide whether or not to explore those feelings in depth, fan the flames or dry the tears, whether it is to encourage or stifle the grieving or anger or etc, etc, etc. I wonder if this holds true when it comes to surges of love, most likely. Most likely. A sudden change of heart based of how others make you feel, isn’t that the rub? There’s a science to it all. It only requires thought beyond the act of laughing or sobbing. The intellectuals postulate this is why the Western way of tragedy and comedy seem super dominant and so catching, whether it’s like a thought plague or just a simple idea. The narrative arcs always culminate in distinct point, and after the height, the finale: bing-bang-boom, draw the curtains folks we have our story. Not so in other cultures where there are forms going on where the journey is extended on a liner plane where scenes like screen change, falling cherry blossom forms that are evolving right along side the “Western” way of thought. Think of the ways you will perish for nothing. That should get you sobbing. As all the good dramatists know.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 01.31.2016 @ 10:13 am
I want to care, but something inside me broke. So I let it all drop, and the pieces, so many of them, fall and land where they may. What’s it to me anyway.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 01.24.2016 @ 2:20 pm
“Rural Juror” is a movie that was never made, yet it somehow manged to be featured on der dem TV shows at some place rock in New York City. Backwoods types. Swamp water types. Closed community mountain-y types. Inner and cut off, just intellectually rotten. Bitter. Small. Small connections between cancers in a malignant tumor that spreads like blight on the flesh. Falling apart from slow, slow neglect. Rural decay. Rural mind hives falling like flies unable to catch up to modernity, dat deese would be lords over ‘er common life. It’s a mouthful alright.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 01.12.2016 @ 3:38 pm
“So was it worthwhile?” she asks. She tucks a strand of stray hair behind her ear and winks.
I take a sip of coffee and think on it, “Yes and no.”
“Well,” smiles coyly,”now I know there’s a story just waiting to be told here.”
“Let her dig,” I think. There’s no pulling it out of me. Not today, tomorrow, or ever, because this thing, this thing of mine, it’s mine to keep.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 01.06.2016 @ 2:31 pm
Instantly like juice, that old powdered orange stuff in a cup, gives lips a bit of the pucker.
She grimaces, “…this tastes like liquefied sweet tarts.”
“Doesn’t doll? Drink up! Drink up!”
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 01.05.2016 @ 2:19 pm
“Wouldn’t you like to know what’s on the dark side of the moon?,” the rabbit asked as she bent a silky, long ear down and pawed the fur smooth, smooth, smooth.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 01.04.2016 @ 2:21 pm
“Shiver me slivers, Captin Timbers!” And then he burst into a million splinters.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.20.2015 @ 3:30 pm
Unrealistic expectations still followed after graduation, the market had sunk to a new low. It was clear the world had gone bust. Welcome to the less cushioned portion of these ever evolving cycles, what doesn’t kill you right?
Still so complex and made real by flesh and blood and moving parts, it was hard to believe a diploma somehow made you an authority on anything beyond a class room discussion or some trite little quiz that you would hold to for a decade or more, thinking someday, someday. And then when it eventually ends up in the recycle bin, maybe you’ll have graduated in some other way again.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.20.2015 @ 10:07 am
“People don’t like it when you’re too clever. It makes them feel threatened. Like you could turn on them or swindle them and they’d never see it coming.”
She says this in all earnestness; I can tell she means to flee this scene, this town, this region. Presumably she will find somewhere where the people aren’t so easily threatened.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.18.2015 @ 4:11 pm
“…not stirred?” the bartender impishly quips as he shakes the cocktail tumbler.
Personally, I don’t give a damn as I’m not ordering this drink. Rather the guy next to me is trying to show off for this single mom type he probably found on some social media app or website under the lonely hearts section, re: “Could you be…?” Or maybe he swiped right when he meant to swipe left and is making the best of it. Desperation drives the lonely into the other’s arms.
As for me?
I gave up martinis awhile ago, what’s the point of pretending this scene means anything…if you’ve ever wanted someone with the clarity of a thousand suns, then no drink will ever dull the ache of what is not.
All sobering thoughts are the ultimate in buzzkills.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.18.2015 @ 12:36 pm
“…think maybe I better ask…well it’s true that we loved one another…..well love really bores me…you know I gave that horse a carrot so he’d break your foot…will the two of you cut it out and tell’em what it’s really all…”
We keep losing reception through the mountain passes, not that I needed it to know the words lost to the ether. It’s whatever. In the back seat one of the dogs yawns and whines. “No worries, pet.” I whisper so no one wakes up, “things are gonna look up soon enough. It just takes time.”
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.17.2015 @ 12:17 pm
It wasn’t my place to speculate as to why his expression seemed pained. Maybe it’s the casting of shadows that hint at a frown, did I do something I shouldn’t have? I can’t tell, has my perception of this event been blurred? I think my vision is perfect, my eyes are dialed in at 20/20. Now in hindsight, have I misread the creases? Why do I feel as if I am sinking too…
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.16.2015 @ 1:46 pm
The currency of downtime, what does it even mean? What happens in this time that is essentially considered both worthless but priceless?
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.15.2015 @ 11:55 am
Lost in thoughtful reverie when in stormed the thought police.
“We’ve been reading your feeds, patterns of speech, ads you clicked, apps you seek,” the would-be good guys screeched in, a hail of fire if ever seen.
Only they were tragically mistaken, as the girl propped up in bed had been in a coma for months. Someone had taken hold of her identity, maybe, a thief in the night, or some tech savvy assassin. Either way, it didn’t truly add up to why she has a hole in her chest and another in the cheek. Two in the same eye and fifth a direct hit on the nose.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.13.2015 @ 12:54 pm
The oysters and champagne are truly a sublime experience, unparalleled specimens of their catch and vintage, but without another soul to share any of it with her, she’s rendered mute. Fed well, yet left hungry. Alienation leaves her unsatisfied. Her fingers weave into her hair as she silently curses beneath her breath that all the waiting will one day be worth it.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.09.2015 @ 2:39 pm
The word “indulgent” pops to mind. Cogent, effulgent, yet indulge not in idle glean with no reason or purpose for being other than to completely please the wanting eyes of ravenous bellies. Wealth is a store house, what do you accumulate in the banks of your knowledge?
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.09.2015 @ 9:11 am
Three cups of coffee.
Three coats hanging.
Three chairs gathered by order of succession.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.08.2015 @ 1:04 pm
A nostalgic part of me misses Liquid Television as a thing you actually had to tune into, but do I hate on-demand media? Not all, and how can ya when it’s so handy, so instantly gratifying. In line with the joy of new wave, I also don’t miss having to navigate an endless sea of commercial ventures either.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.07.2015 @ 2:06 pm
It’s was as normal as homemade apple pie, depending on how you treated said item. Which assumes the fabric of space and time are not warped, by perversions or inversions, and the general definition for logical use, in this case consumption or throwing it away, was observed by all who chanced upon it.
That would be an example of normal.
Perfect as a Target commercial or stream lined like an Apple product.
But this America, where the definitions range, even if the strange is banal or at worst horrific and sometimes the definitions of banal and horrific to have a way of meeting when history reveals the faces of evil. Still at least their not chopping off all the heads of animals some teenage boy has defiled before hanging him, because you know what’s normal for the Old Testment, right?
It’s a trip. This new normal. Every moment where the laws of physics don’t implode or reverse themselves. Each moment that your still alive to still appreciate these facts that is.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.06.2015 @ 7:29 am
She smells like coconuts as she wafts in with the breeze, my pretty disco lemonade, I bring her in close to me, wrap her in my arms and inhale like a yogi extracting the essence of life from air: lemon shampoo and coconut body oil mixed with something distinctly human, I swear if this woman breaks my heart, I may never go to the beach again.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.05.2015 @ 12:15 pm
Ridin’ off into the sunset, slumped over in the saddle as the last rays trail across the dusty plains. They used to call me Shane. Now I’m on a hi-ho horse with no name.
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.02.2015 @ 2:27 pm
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I could tell he most definitely wanted to ring’er up, but his sense of propriety wouldn’t allow it. Always a gentleman never a cad, but “Maybe,” he thinks, “a text wouldn’t be so bad?”
» Posted By Quicksilver Screen On 12.01.2015 @ 8:46 pm